


Third Time Pays For All

by fredbassett



Category: Primeval
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 08:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1260592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredbassett/pseuds/fredbassett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An anomaly opens in the ARC and Lester finds himself with an unusual ally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Third Time Pays For All

Lester had never understood the phrase ‘third time pays for all’, but one of his sons had been prone to quoting it ever since he’d read The Hobbit, and Lester didn’t like to betray ignorance, but in that regard, the internet had been very little help.

So why the hell that bloody phase had come to mind when he was being stalked through the corridors of the ARC by a future predator yet again, Lester really couldn’t fathom. But having this happen for a third time was really very unwelcome indeed.

When an anomaly had opened in one of the bunkrooms, it had been unfortunate that the first person on the scene had been one of the cleaners rather than a member of the security staff. It had been doubly unfortunate that the majority of the said security staff had been out on a series of call-outs taking them throughout the city, leaving only Becker behind. And that was only because he was recovering from a badly-sprained ankle gained as a result of having been knocked down a long flight of stairs by something from the Cretaceous with a distinct attitude problem.

Quick-thinking Jess had managed to put the main parts of the ARC into lockdown, starting with the Hub, but Lester had been on one of the lower levels and Burton seemingly hadn’t been too bothered about anything that far away from the main command centre. Lester had been down there to check reports from the maintenance staff of damp ingress, of all things. The lockdown alarm had caught him unawares, too far away from anything that could be pressed into service as a weapon, but that hadn’t stopped him grabbing a broom and a bottle of bleach one from one of the cleaning cupboards, just in case. If nothing else it made him feel better to have something in his hands.

But what he really wanted was a proper weapon, and for that he’d have to make his way to the armoury, but that was one level – and an awful lot of danger – away. Fortunately, he’d caught a glimpse of the first predator before it had become aware of his presence. He’d slipped back around the corner and started looking for another route, which is how he’d ended up moving as stealthily as possible up a set of stairs in the bowels of the ARC.

He was still further from the armoury than he would have liked but, looking on the bright side, he was closer to it than he’d been when he’d started out. He knew from past experience that the predators hunted by the twin methods of echo-location and smell, so he needed to stay as far away from them as possible. But that was easier said than done.

The tell-tale snuffle from behind him was the first clue Lester got to the fact that we was about to get up close and personal again with one of the creatures that seemed hell-bent on being his nemesis. He whirled around and hurled the bleach, sending a spray of the corrosive liquid strait into the creature’s enormous nostrils. He flung the plastic bottle at it for good measure and took to his heels, pleased that his weekly squash sessions had enabled him to keep a reasonable level of fitness.

At the end of the corridor, two double doors lead into the biology section. There’d be no respite there, as those rooms were the first to be locked down. He could see some of the staff behind the reinforced glass, but he had no way of joining them. He waved his broom at them in greeting and continued on towards the armoury.

The sound of a shotgun discharging told him that his head of security had almost certainly beaten him to it. Lester rounded the corner to see Becker backed against the wall, his nimble fingers quickly stuffing more shells into the breach while two of the predators advanced in him.

“Oi!” Lester waved the broom in the air for good measure.

One of the predators turned to face him, its hairless skull tilted on one side as it determined the direction of the sound.

Becker finished loading the shotgun shells and racked the slide. The predator nearest to him took two shells in the face in quick succession. It dropped like a stone, long skeletal arms winding themselves around its body as it twitched on the floor. The other one promptly ran up the wall as nimbly as a spider, jumping between the light fittings as it rapidly approached Lester.

“Down!” Becker’s yell was accompanied by another blast from his Mossberg.

Lester hit the floor and started rolling. Blood splattered onto his suit, but at least it wasn’t his own. He came up on one knee, broom raised to jab at anything coming at him.

“I didn’t realise you moonlighted as a cleaner.” Becker shot the slide on his combat shotgun back and forwards.

“There’s no doubt a lot about me that you don’t know, Becker,” Lester said, as calmly as he could manage. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare handgun, would you?”

“Take this.” Becker held out the Mossberg. “And get the hell out of here.” He reached over and shoved a handful of shells into Lester’s suit jacket. “I’ll follow you.”

“Becker…”

The young soldier shook his head. “Get the hell out of here, sir. This is my fight now. I’ve got two handguns and several knives, so don’t argue.”

The sound of a woman’s scream cut through the air.

“You do what you can for her,” Becker ordered. “I’ll follow you, trust me.”

Lester did trust him. It was the reason he’d refused to have anything to do with the re-formed ARC unless Becker had also come on board.

“Make sure you do,” he retorted. “Have this, it might come in handy.” He chucked the broom to Becker and went in search of the screaming.

A member of the biology team was covering by a door. Lester slung the shotgun over his shoulder by its strap, grabbed a fire-extinguisher off the wall and sent a jet of foam onto the creature that was menacing her. It worked as well as the bleach had done, filling its nostrils and causing enough confusion for Lester to be able to pump a shotgun shell into its head at point blank range.

Lester pushed its still twitching carcass away from the doors with his foot and yanked them open. “Jess, if you can hear me, open the doors to the Hub and let Miss Weddle in, please. I’ll make sure nothing follows her.”

Provided the CCTV cameras and sound feed was still working, he hoped Jess would have picked that up. He stretched out a hand and hailed the biologist to her feet; Miss Weddle was more used to working with plants than things that fought back. She gave him a frightened smile that didn’t reach her eyes and then fled as fast as she could in wholly unsuitable footwear.

Lester was about to follow her through the doors when he saw a predator scurrying along on the ceiling like a giant cockroach. He fired the shotgun from the hip, but the creature bounced around like a rubber ball in a squash court, leaving him fumbling to reload before he’d managed to do it any significant damage.

Just as he expected to feel its bony claws slashing at him the way they’d already done on two occasions that he preferred to forget, Lester heard a low growl and turned to face yet another danger.

Prowling around the corner in the corridor was another apex predator, and although Lester had never seen a creature like that outside a zoo, it didn’t take a devotee of David Attenborough to recognise an enormous white tiger. The growl that issued from it was full-throated and enough to raise the hairs on the back of Lester’s neck. The only good thing about its appearance was that approximately 350kg of white tiger was currently focussed on the other predator in the corridor, not him. A second anomaly must have opened. This really wasn’t turning into one of Lester’s better days.

The predator bounced from one wall to another. The tiger reared up on its back legs and lashed out with the wicked-looking claws set in on one huge paw. It caught the future predator a glancing blow, splitting the leathery skin like paper. The lipless mouth drew back in a snarl and, a moment later, battle had been joined. Lester knew he should just get the hell out of there, but the sight of two such unlikely foes locked in mortal combat wasn’t something he could easily walk away from.

The predator has wound itself around the tiger and was trying to bring its talon-like claws to bear in the fight, but the tiger hit the floor in a roll, doing its best to dislodge the creature. A patch of white fur was ripped out of the tiger’s chest by the predator’s teeth. The big cat gave a roar of pain and anger. The sound was enough to make Lester wish he’d used the loo before this particular game of cat and mouse had started. A moment later, the tiger seized its opponent’s head in its jaws and bit down with a sickening crunch.

Time to go…

Lester put his shoulder against the doors and barged through. He’d be in the armoury if he made it down the next corridor. There was just one problem with that plan. Or, in the interests of strict accuracy, two problems, both facing him, both between him and the armoury. Of Miss Weddle there was no sign, which gave him some small measure of hope that she’d got to safety before they arrived.

The Mossberg had eight shots in its magazine, plus one chambered round, but Lester knew how fucking hard to kill these things were unless you managed to get in a lucky headshot, and they moved frighteningly fast. He got off three rounds before one of them knocked him flat and sent the shotgun spinning, knocking it from his hands. Lester tried to roll after it, but felt bony claws closing around his ankle and hauling him back.

His fingers scrabbled unsuccessfully for purchase on the vinyl floor.

A roar drew his attention away from his own predicament for a moment, in time to see the tiger come barrelling down the corridor, moving remarkably fast for a creature that seemed to be favouring an injured foreleg. The predator’s attention turned off him for a crucial second and it slackened its grip, enabling Lester to grab the shotgun by the barrel and haul it to him. His hands were slick with sweat, but that didn’t stop him from firing the chambered round, probably doing more damage to the wall than to one of his attackers, but it was the thought that counted and he hoped that the noise would at least act as some sort of distraction.

And so began one of the strangest running battles that Lester had ever known. Working in tandem with the tiger, Lester made his way to the armoury, stuffed his pockets with what the soldiers usually referred to as flash bangs, as well as more shotgun shells. He also strapped a large fighting knife to one thigh and a SIG Sauer pistol to the other, not even stopping to think how ridiculous they must look against the backdrop of one of his best Savile Row sits.

After that, with the huge beast padding at his side, Lester turned from prey to predator. There were still civilians at risk, and it was his intention to reach them before their enemies did. He was successful – mostly.

They worked in a silence broken only by a roar from the tiger or the blast of the Mossberg. When they had patrolled each of the un-locked down corridors at least twice without having encountered a predator, Lester was willing to concede that they had probably been successful in their aim.

Circling back to the armoury, Lester took a moment to check the position of the CCTV cameras and then calmly shot both of them out.

The tiger crouched on its haunches and regarded him almost quizzically. Blood from a gash on its chest had stained the once-pristine fur red.

“I have absolutely no idea how you have managed to keep this particular secret quiet, Captain, but if you can, I would suggest now is a good time to do whatever it is you need to do.”

The tiger’s jaws lolled open in something that loosely resembled a smile.

A moment later, Becker was sitting on the ground in front of him, bleeding from a gash across his chest.

Lester held out a hand and hauled Becker to his feet. He raised one eyebrow in mute question.

Becker’s smile slid into a grin. “Don’t ask, and I won’t tell, James. We’ll just say the tiger made it back through the anomaly, shall we?”

“That would be easier than telling the truth,” Lester acknowledged. “But if you think you’re going to get away without some sort of explanation, you have another think coming.”

“Take me to dinner sometime and I’ll explain.”

Lester’s answering smile turned almost as feral as the tiger’s had been.

“I’ll hold you to that, Captain Becker.”


End file.
